


Blood in the Thread

by Bustle



Series: Chrobin Week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Chrobin Week 2020, Crane Wife AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bustle/pseuds/Bustle
Summary: A young man, a crane, and sacrifice made in the name of love.(AU based on the Japanese folktale the Crane Wife, made for Chrobin Week 2020, Day 1 - Fairy Tales).
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: Chrobin Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978207
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Blood in the Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my beta Scytale, who came in clutch this year for all of my Chrobin fics. Thank you also to the mods who run this ship week for us, and who answered my question about if folklore that doesn't strictly fall under fairy tales would be suitable for this prompt!

Deep in the woods in the shadow of a great mountain, there lived a young man, his older sister, and his younger sister. Since their parents were long passed, the elder siblings had assumed responsibility for the house and their young sister. The brother, the middle child, fished and scavenged berries and hauled firewood for his family, in-between taking odd jobs in the nearby village. The elder sister brewed herbal tonics and mended laundry in trade for necessities from the village. The younger sister learned to weed their small garden and helped her siblings put together meals that were filling, if not elegant.

One day, while the young man was fishing in the nearby river, a brilliant white crane crashed to the ground at his feet; an arrow protruded from the crane’s wing. The young man took pity on the creature and removed the arrow. Though he wasn't as skilled at healing wounds as his older sister, he did his best to clean the wound, using a strip he tore from his own cloak as a bandage.

“There, now,” he said soothingly. “Beware of hunters, friend.”

Thanks to his care, the bird soon took to the sky again, flying around his head three times and letting out a cry as if in thanks before it flew away.

That night, a woman showed up on the doorstep of the small house the siblings shared. She had stark white hair, dark eyes, and a streak of bright red down the white sleeve of her clothing. She asked to speak to the young man.

“I am here to be your wife,” she said, and the young man blushed and protested, for he did not know the young woman well enough to marry her, and he was certain his family could not support his taking a wife. However, they opened their home to her for a time, as they could never turn away a person in need of a place to stay.

The young man swiftly found himself falling in love with the mysterious stranger, and soon enough, they were wed.

After their marriage, she begged to be furnished with a loom. The small family gathered their scant savings and bought a loom in the village. Next, she requested a room be cleared for her to weave in, with a promise that neither her husband or his sisters would ever look in while she worked. Once her room was ready, the young woman shut herself away for three days and three nights.

When she emerged, she was much thinner, and she held a bolt of the most beautiful cloth any of them had ever seen. She pressed it into the young man’s arms. 

“Take this to the village, and it will sell for a high price,” she said. 

The man did as he was told, and just as his wife said, the cloth sold very well.

The coin from the cloth kept the family snug and comfortable during a long, bleak winter when the siblings could harvest neither herbs nor berries nor vegetables.

That spring, the young woman and the elder sister traveled together into town often, and the young woman noticed how her companion would sigh over books on medicinal herbs. When pressed on the subject, the elder sister would always deny any issue, and yet it was clear that something was wrong. Finally, the young woman managed to pry out an answer: her elder sister-in-law wished to study medicine to help those in pain, but knew the family had not the means to send her away to learn. She had long ago accepted this and explained with a smile, but a tinge of regret crept into her voice. 

That night, the young woman once again locked herself away in her weaving room, extracting promises from her husband and her sisters to stay out. She worked in the room for five days and five nights. When she emerged, she looked even more thin and sickly, but she carried an even more beautiful bolt of cloth than before. She passed the cloth to the elder sister.

“Sell this for a high price, and use it to travel so you may learn what you desire,” she said. The sister wept and tried to refuse, for it felt like too great a gift, but the young woman stood firm and insisted. The sister relented, and, with profuse thanks, she left to travel and seek knowledge.

As the seasons turned, the younger sister visited the village more often, now a young lady in her own right. In the village, she too found herself called away—she fell in love. She wed her love and left the house with a smile, effusive and starry-eyed, and promised to visit as often as she could. 

For their part, the young couple found themselves alone in the house. However, they were not lonely, for they had each other. And that second spring together, they joyously welcomed a healthy baby girl, who had fat red cheeks and her father’s dark hair.

However, with a new mouth to feed and less help in the household, they were once again short of coin. The younger sister and her spouse helped when they could, but they only had so much food themselves. 

By autumn, the young man and his wife were struggling. He left the house to fish and gather dinner as usual, pondering what was to be done. No one was offering extra work in the village for him to take on. He resolved to gather together the last of the precious heirlooms left to him by his parents—only a few petty trinkets, but it would be something to earn coin and fill their bellies. 

That night, when he returned to the house, he found that his wife had once again shut herself away weaving. He despaired at the thought, remembering how haggard and tired she had been after her previous efforts, but he had promised not to disturb her. 

For seven days and seven nights she wove, and the young man cared for their baby and fretted himself into a panic. Consumed with worry, he threw the door open.

Inside the room sat a crane, deftly weaving the most astoundingly beautiful fabric yet. She was smeared with blood, for she had used her beak to pluck her own feathers out to weave the fabric upon the loom.

“Oh!” cried the crane, startling at the intrusion. “Why did you break your promise?”

Stunned, the young man could only shake his head. 

Wearily, the crane took the fabric from the loom. It was a radiant white, threaded through with a streak of bright crimson.

“I had hoped to provide for our daughter enough for a good life, and for you to honor your promise,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow. “I am the crane you saved. Now that you have seen my true form, I can stay by your side no longer. I wish you great happiness and a long and healthy life.”

She dropped the bolt of fabric at his feet. 

“I leave you this to provide for our daughter,” she said, and then swiftly she took wing until she was naught but a speck on the horizon. 

The young man was heartbroken, but he did as he was bade, selling the fabric so that he could feed his child. Without his wife, the house stood empty and cold with the bitterness of winter approaching.

Months passed and his elder sister returned. She was now much more knowledgeable in the ways of medicine, and she immediately became renowned in the village for her abilities. With her help, the young man knew that his family’s future was secure, for his sister had a generous heart and would never let her loved ones starve. However, he was still mired in grief, bereft of his wife’s smile and her lovely, dark eyes.

Finally, he was unable to bear the loneliness and guilt any longer. He carefully bundled his daughter up and put her in the care of his younger sister, along with funds from the sale of the cloth to provide for her. He set out in search of the crane.

His trek along the snow banks lining the river was slow going, and at times, he could find no trace of the crane at all. Eventually, his shoes soaked through, his toes going numb. Then a bear set upon his campsite, stealing the food he had packed, and he was forced to live off the offerings of the barren winter forest as he traveled. Still, he persisted, following any scrap of evidence of the crane as he pushed farther into the unforgiving wilds.

At last, he came upon a marsh, set around a half-frozen lake, and there he found the crane.

She cut a pitiful figure, shivering in the snow. She was bald in patches where she had thinned her own feathers. When she noticed the approach of her husband, she cocked her head in puzzlement.

“Why have you come?” she asked, her voice tired and weak. He moved closer still, and crouched by her without answering.

“Why did you choose as you did?” he asked instead, gently. He removed his cloak and draped it around her, tucking it tightly around her shivering body.

The crane disappeared in the blink of an eye. Instead the young woman lay in the snow, gazing up at him with her sad, dark eyes. She clutched the cloak closely around her shoulders.

“I sacrificed for love,” she said, “and I loved you for your kindness and gentle heart.”

“Then you should know that I love you as well, for your kindness and your beautiful soul, and I wish to sacrifice for love just as much as you did for me. If we have money troubles, let me sell my belongings, or work even harder at any job I can take on, or ask my sisters for help. Do not take the burden solely on your shoulders,” he said, running his hand through her stark white hair. “Every day, our daughter grows. She needs her mother. Please come back, and let me and our family care for you, the same way you have cared for us,” he pleaded. 

“Regardless of your true form, you are my wife, and I love you.”

At his words, she fell into his embrace with a cry. When the young man started back home, his crane wife came with him, kept warm by his cloak and his new promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Decemerist's song [The Crane Wife 1&2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHslrm1jFAg) (based on the same folktale that inspired this fic).


End file.
